Wherein I ponder the definition of 'writer' and stick my tongue out at Dr. Bill.
Best typo today?

mamanged

O_o

Yeah, I don't know. My fingers are stupid today.

And here's a question to ponder - how many different people, at random points in time, and for different reasons, have to tell me I'm a writer before I give in and admit it might be so?

I am not passionate about writing. I really couldn't give a shit. I write when I'm inspired, and apparently I don't suck. I don't think that makes me a writer.

But apparently I'm missing something. I guess 12+ years of writing off and on, the amount of thought I put into whether or not I *am* a writer, and the fact that I continue to write even when I *do* suck (not that I let anyone see it) leads people to believe that I am, in fact, a writer.

As you can tell I have been thinking about this for DAYS now, thanks ever so much Dr. Bill. :P

(pls also to be noting that this post is best classified as PROCRASTINATION from the qaf_challenges fic I am currently trying to write. Because I swore a few months ago I was NEVER doing DEADLINE fic again, obviously I need to be working on my THIRD in as many months. But I am not a writer.)

(Also, I am struck by ... something. I don't know, words are not my friend today. I am struck by amusement? Irony? Horror? that my dining table, the very one my brother carved "Fuck" into while doing his homework when he was not much older than my son, hosted a conversation that included the words Aristotle, Vital Powers, and Fan Fiction all in one go this weekend.)

That conversation culminated in my saying "I wonder how many people have to tell me I'm a writer before I believe it?" To which denk_mal, who ha just arrived and missed the entire agonizing conversation, responded with something akin to "I don't know, Sash. How many?" and a smug smirk. Yes, she is on that list of people with whom I have argued "But I. Don't. Give. A. Shit." about writing.

Apparently I do.

So the question then becomes...what do I do about it?

My answer is NOTHING. I write when I write, I am sad when I cannot and Jesus GOD do I not have any interest in the agonizing and effort involved in attempting to come up with my own original idea, develop characters, plot, worlds in which to write, edits, and re-edits and finally the long and rejection filled efforts to get the damn thing published.

Really. You guys know me, however abstractly through the internet. Does that sound like a GOOD TIME for *me*?

Yeah. No.

So I guess the answer is, yes. I suppose I am a writer. I suppose writing might even be one of my vital powers.

No. I am not likely to do anything with it aside from the occasional fanfic unless I am one day struck down by the most brilliant idea evar and MUST write-it-or-die.

God. The mere thought of straining myself to desperately grasp hold of an idea to write just for the sake of writing makes me vaguely nauseous.

Which, now that I think about it, may be the reason I am loathe to think of myself in terms of "writer." The people that I know that call themselves writers spend an awful lot of time agonizing.

I have no problem occasionally hating Harry Potter because I have to write a frelling Emo!Harry chapter and he's not cooperating. That little bit of irritation and agony I'm okay with. And now I get to scrap the whole buggered chapter in my re-write, woot!

But! Spending YEARS agonizing over my writing? FORCING myself to write every day? Jesus, NaNoWriMo sounds more like torture than a good time, to me.

So, obviously, if I'm not willing to do THAT then I must absolutely NOT be a writer, right?

When it comes to writing I am LAZY. If I get hit with inspiration I will write 6000 words in seven hours and not stop to eat. And then...and then child interrupts to tell me a joke of his own making.

"What do boys and girls have in common?"

"Dunno."

"They have opposable thuuuuuuumbs." *wiggles thumbs*

"Ahhhh." (was that supposed to be funny? *ponders*)

*child blinks* "And they're humans. And they have hair..." *child realizes joke was not so much with the funny. oops.*

ANYWAY. AND THEN. I will finish writing and wander off to do something else. Unless I have more inspiration. I wrote the fluffy!verse in a matter of weeks and then lost all inclination to do so. So I haven't. Woo.

I have irritated myself trying to decide what to write for the challenge. So I quit trying. And last night I was hit with inspiration. It's ridiculous, but I'm enjoying it. *shrugs* I doubt ya'll will ever get angst out of me. So sorry.

So. Am I a writer? Should I be living in pursuit of that idea which will make me the next Great American Novelist?

Fuck if I know. You tell me.

Random geekery: conversation with my husband via messenger about 2 minutes ago -

Husband: Love you
Cold Poet: love you too
Husband: whatcha doin?
Cold Poet: pondering
Husband: Are you pondering what I'm pondering?
Cold Poet: How Fanchild manages to lose entire pairs of socks before they even make it to the washing machine?
Husband: close, I was pondering how to use lederhosen to take over the world.
Husband: But I can see where you'd miss that one.
Cold Poet: LOL

Is anyone really surprised that my Brian has an affection for Pinky & The Brian? Hee.